


kinda tragic that I left your side

by driedflowers



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Finale, background annie/annie kim, background britta/frankie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedflowers/pseuds/driedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It’s been three long years since he’s been here, and one long minute he’s been waiting at the door. Troy Barnes is coming home, and if there were any time for the dramatic music to start, it is now.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't do the class titles anymore, as much as I love it. It's too many. Too much. So, bring on the titles from He is We songs. This title is from their song Forever and Ever.
> 
> alternate/working title: eternal trobed tears

He’s doing that thing boys do, when they put a hand on the back of their neck and bow their head a little bit with a pained expression on their face.

There are suitcases strewn on the floor around him, but they’re not as heavy as his emotional baggage. It’s been three long years since he’s been here, and one long minute he’s been waiting at the door. Troy Barnes is coming home, and if there were any time for the dramatic music to start, it is now.

He hasn’t knocked on the door. The shiny gold 303 stares at him, daring him to pull out the key that is in his back pocket, and he can definitely hear the music now. It’s wistful—not joyful—because there’s no one home. Abed Nadir doesn’t live here anymore. And Troy Barnes hasn’t, not for three years, but he does now.

There’s no sense in putting it off any longer, so Troy goes inside. The apartment looks all wrong without the blanket fort. He knew they would have taken it down, when Abed and Annie moved out—moved _on_ —but it still tugs at his heart.

This trip around the world was supposed to help Troy find himself. But all it did was put things on hold, and then unceremoniously dump him back in his life exactly where he had been, only with a couple million more dollars and about five fewer friends.

Coming back feels all wrong. It’s sad and mopey, and this is not how Troy wanted it to be. He needs to take hold of his own story and bring back the hijinks. He’s willing to do almost anything for that.

So he does what he should have done two years and three hundred sixty-four days ago: he calls Abed.

The phone rings, and he holds his breath. There’s a crinkle, and a nasal female voice: _The number you’ve reached is no longer in service_.

Tears well up in his eyes, and his face scrunches up. He leans against the wall and slides to the floor, and he’s _glad_ Abed and Annie made it out of Greendale, _glad_ they moved on with their lives. Surely this phone call is a sign from the universe, telling him to let go of the past.

The trip around the world did help him realize one thing. Something that maybe should have been evident from his first year at Greendale, something that maybe was.

Troy pulls up his email instead and composes a brief message to his friends: _I’m home._

He’s sick of listening to the universe. It’s time he listens to his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to brlttaperry and bridgetandbell on tumblr for helping me figure out the plot for the rest of the story! I definitely would not have been able to update so quickly without your advice.
> 
> By the way, Liz's appearance and major are in reference to Attachments by Rainbow Rowell. But not her story arc, really.

_I don’t know why I thought it would be that simple_ , he thinks.

A girl walking by with a latte and a tote bag stops in front of his table. “Why what would be so simple?”

“Woah. Did you just read my mind?”

“...You said that out loud.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Troy hesitates. But then he decides, fuck it. He’s utterly alone in life, and the cute redhead at Starbucks wants to talk to him. So he nods at her and tries to force his face into less of a grimace, and she sits down across the table from him.

“I’m Liz,” she says, holding out a hand.

“Troy.”

“So, about your issues.” She takes the lid off her drink and licks off some of the whipped cream. She giggles when her glasses fog up, and Troy feels his heart pick up speed in spite of himself.

He forces himself to concentrate. Maybe there will be time for a love connection, or whatever this is going to be, but it can come after he gets some things out. Troy’s a bit worried he’s going to explode, burst into tears, or both, if he doesn’t talk to someone.

“You’re not a psych major, right?” he asks cautiously.

She laughs, even though there’s no possible way she could know about Troy’s history with Britta. Unless she actually can read minds. “No. I’m studying Pharmacy Sciences.”

“Okay. So.” He takes a deep breath and launches into the story.

Troy doesn’t start at the very beginning, with the keg flip and the dislocated shoulders and that first day at Greendale, but at the first time when he and Abed clicked. Because he loves them all, still considers them his best friends, but Abed has always been on a whole different tier.

Liz listens attentively, at first asking polite questions, and then asking real ones as the café’s lunch rush ends, leaving them almost alone in the room. It’s a miracle that he makes it to the end without crying.

“I’m back, obviously, and I called the apartment, but the landlord said they were gone, so now I’m living there, and the blanket fort is gone, and Abed won’t email me back,” he says, sighing perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary. But, he figures, he’s allowed to be a little melodramatic. It’s been a weird few years.

“Well, that might be just because he doesn’t check his Greendale address anymore,” Liz offers generously. It’s not much consolation.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just, if he—” Troy says, fumbling for the right words. “I keep thinking, if he even misses me at all, why _wouldn’t_ he check his email? I know this is terrible, but I want him to miss me. If it were me, with the guy I love somewhere in the middle of the ocean, I’d be checking my email every five minutes.” The words tumble out of him faster than he can keep up with, and it takes Troy a few seconds to realize what he said. When he does, his eyes go wide.

“Wait, like, platonic love? Romantic love?” Liz asks. Troy tries to read her face before responding. She looks like she’s genuinely confused, not like she’s trying to decide if he’s a freak of nature, so he decides to be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says, and a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying seems to fall off his shoulders.

“Well, it sounds like he really means a lot to you,” Liz says, her voice dripping with tact. It’s bordering on condescension, really.

Troy coughs, in what he hopes is a manly fashion. “Can we talk about something else?” The way his voice cracks completely undermines any semblance of masculinity, but he decides to let it go.

“Yeah, sure.”

It turns out Liz goes to City College. Troy almost gets up and leaves the table right then and there, but he doesn’t. He’d like to think his world travels made him a more tolerant person.

“Wow, I thought the old rivalry was just an urban legend,” Liz says in awe, presumably in response to the way Troy’s entire body tenses when he hears the other school’s name. “Did Dean Spreck really try to sabotage Greendale through paintball?”

Troy nods. “It was epic. Abed was Han Solo.”

Liz raises her eyebrows at him, but doesn’t ask. “Well, anyway, the deans are married now, and you can take classes at either school if you’re enrolled in one. It’s really easy. My friend took a Fundamentals of Law class at Greendale last semester.”

“Wait, the deans are married? I guess they did have some pretty erotic eye contact during second paintball...”

Liz waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah. Some pictures from the wedding got leaked, and it looked like it was pretty weird. I think one of the groomsmen was wearing a dalmatian costume.”

Troy nods. “I bet my friends were at the wedding,” he says, choking back a sob. Because he knew that life had gone on without him, in theory, but this is more concrete. He can see it in his mind’s eye, pictures of them all dolled up on the dance floor. Smiling and laughing over cake, without him.

Troy holds up his index finger, gesturing for Liz to wait as he swallows down the rest of his tears. “Go on,” he says resolutely.

Liz looks concerned, but she doesn’t push it. “I’m actually trying to transfer to Greendale right now. It’s closer to where I live.”

“Maybe I could give you some pointers before you interview?” Troy offers. He feels kind of bad; this stranger just listened to him bare his soul, and he hasn’t done anything in return.

“That would be great!” Liz says, and it sounds like she means it.

They talk for another few minutes about the weather and a movie that they both saw, and the irony of it all is not lost on Troy. These things usually go in the opposite order.

Finally, Liz glances at her watch. “Oh, I have to go. But we should see each other again, right? I’ll give you my number.” She scribbles it on a napkin. “Call me, after you figure some things out. And I’ll take you up on that offer of interview pointers.”

“Cool, cool,” Troy says, and Liz gives him a final wave before walking out.

So, Troy thinks, punching Liz’s number into his phone, this what he’s supposed to do with all this newfound free time. Figure things out.


	3. Chapter 3

Are the rules different, when it’s not a date? Is there a refractory period for new friends, too? Because Troy wants to call Liz five minutes after he gets home, and he doesn’t know if it would be a major social faux pas, or a minor one, or even one at all.

Maybe he could blame it on the three years’ removal from society, but he’s never really been good with this stuff. Girls in high school giggled at him and said his complete cluelessness was cute, but college girls, adult girls—no, adult _women_ —expect him to know what he’s doing. And he doesn’t. There haven’t exactly been explicit instructions...

He doesn’t plan to call Liz that same day, but after watching three episodes of an Inspector Spacetime marathon (airing seemingly just to rub salt in his wounds) and crying into a pillow through a fourth, he caves. It’s only 8:30, so he figures it won’t be a major inconvenience.

It isn’t. Liz seems flattered rather than weirded out by his same-day call, and it looks like she’s actually going to make good on her offer another meeting. They make plans for dinner the next day.

“Look, I know it’s not a lot of time, but you have to promise me to do a little thinking before I see you again,” she says.

Troy can’t help but smile. He nods, before remembering that she can’t see him. “I will,” he says, believing it.

And then he’s alone again. Alone in his apartment, alone in the world. Alone with his thoughts. He’s been avoiding them lately, especially the ones that invite him to unfurl the kitten-tangled mass of yarn that is his relationship with Abed. It’s tangled because he’s never been very good at distinguishing the type of love he feels for someone, and the kitten represents— nothing; it’s a crummy metaphor. He’s just stalling with himself for time, at this point.

He lies down on the couch and stares up at the ceiling, picturing the starry skies of the open ocean. He can almost feel the rocking of the boat, can almost taste the salty sea breeze. It would be easy to go back— not to sea, literally, but mentally. To do his best to forget everything, sweep fond memories under the rug. But it doesn’t seem right, especially now that he’s hooked someone else into this mess. No, there’s no reason to put things off any longer.

The thing is, Troy knows how to love. He didn’t really allow himself to do it freely, not in high school, at home. But at Greendale, surrounded by people who fucked up just as badly as him, there was no more shame. So he let himself love fiercely, let his heart be split in six different pieces, and he now can’t seem to sort through them all.

Because what he feels for Abed—what he’s felt for longer than he’d care to admit—is different. Not _more_ than the rest, just different. The thought has been rolling around in his head for years, and maybe Liz has dropped the answer into his lap.

So he’ll just try it out, in the empty apartment. Test the feel of it on his tongue.

“I’m in love with Abed Nadir,” Troy says. And it feels just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it be better to have short and frequent updates, or longer and less frequent updates?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, bridgetandbell, you rock.

It’s not a date, but it might as well be for how nervous Troy is. He shows up to the diner early, and kills the time by doodling on the people in the ads on the paper placemat. By the time Liz walks in, the smiling plumbers have been replaced by aliens, and his nerves have subsided somewhat.

“Hey,” he says nervously.

“Hi,” Liz says, flashing a brilliant smile and sitting down across from him in the booth. She moves aside her silverware to place a large file folder on the table. “So, these are my application materials.”

Troy’s own application had been maybe half that. And online. “Woah, Liz, that’s...”

“Just kidding!” She smirks. “The first couple pages are my application, the rest is the manuscript of Dean Dangerous I printed from the Greendale website.”

“Oh, yeah, he mailed me a copy of that last year. It was really weird, a bird dropped it onto the deck when we were in the Caribbean.”

They spend a few minutes discussing the book, which is actually kind of good when you’re in the middle of the ocean and haven’t read anything in six months, and then they move on to Liz’s application to transfer. As far as Troy can tell, it looks good. Liz is a breathing human being or a very convincing android; he can’t see why Greendale wouldn’t admit her. He tells her so.

“Man, just when you think you’re good enough to pass the Voigt-Kampff test...”

Troy smiles wistfully. Blade Runner is one of the first movies he saw when Abed started to introduce him to sci-fi. “Abed would love you,” he says absently.

Liz opens her mouth, but whatever she plans to say is cut off by the waitress, a woman about their age whose smile is tired but warm as she fishes a pen out of her apron pocket.

“What can I get you two to drink? We don’t have much in the way of romantic wines, but—”

“We’re not—” Troy says. “This isn’t—” He’s pretty sure the woman is joking, based on the glint in her eye before and the way she’s half-laughing at him now, but he figures it’s better safe than sorry. For some reason, it feels like it matters.

“I agree,” Liz says, nodding mock-seriously. “And just water’s fine for me. Troy, are you ready to order?”

He is. Troy gets blueberry waffles with whipped cream, and Liz opts for an omelette.

“So,” Liz says, once they’re alone again. “You promised me you’d try to figure things out.”

Troy takes a deep breath. He shakes his hands out and grimaces before dumping his thoughts. “Okay. Um, I really distanced myself from my friends? I thought it would be better to have, you know, a clean break, but it turns out I didn’t want to have any break at all, but by the time I realized that, it was too late, and I had so many _emotions_ about everything, and... I didn’t realize until yesterday that I’m in love with Abed, which makes things, like, _Inception_ -level complicated. I still don’t get that movie...”

Liz frowns at him thoughtfully. “So, okay. You want to reconnect, and now you know more about your feelings. I think you should try to contact Jeff.”

“I tried emailing him, Jeffrey.Winger@greendale.edu, but he didn’t answer.”

“Wait, _Winger_?”

“Uh, yeah. What?”

“My friend took his class. Last semester, Fundamentals of Law. Troy, he’s still at Greendale! He must have a different email now or something.”

“I guess I thought he left, like everyone else...”

“We have to go to Greendale! You could come with me when I go to interview, and go see Jeff! I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” Troy says, uncertainly.

Oh, god, what if he _wouldn’t_? Troy hadn't even considered that: If his friends would want to hear from him after years of radio silence. Maybe they'd be angry that he hadn't called, or maybe they'd just be so relieved to see him that they could put all of that aside. He’s hoping for the latter. Maybe he can blame Pierce. It worked while he was alive, anyway. It would be... honoring his memory to continue to do the same now that he’s gone.

Liz offers to pick him up on the way to her interview, and they nail down the plans for that. It’s in a week; Troy thinks he can make it until then. Probably.

When the waitress brings the check, Troy reaches for it, silencing Liz’s protests with a reminder of his (unfortunately acquired) fortune. There’s an extra piece of paper underneath it, and he picks it up.

“I think it’s for you...” he says. There’s a number scribbled on it in black pen.

Liz preens. “Oh my god, this is so clichéd. I love it.” She glances over at the waitress, who winks.

“I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Troy says, grinning in what he hopes is an encouraging fashion. He leaves a tip on the table and goes home to an empty apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been ten days, and that this update is fairly short. An excuse I could use is midterms, but that would imply that I've actually spent a bunch of time studying, which, at this point, is untrue.
> 
> ETA: It's looking quite unlikely that I'll finish this. I'm very sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i haven't updated in a year and a half

“Liz, don’t— Come back here!” It’s too late. She’s already hurtling down the corridor, curls flying behind her, and by the time Troy catches up to her outside the door with the fake bronze nameplate that says Mr. Winger, Liz has her head stuck in the doorway. Troy leans against the wall and tries to pant softly enough to hear what she’s saying.

“...he’s got a lot of interesting updates!”

“Liz..... no...” he pants, still gasping for breath. She swings back into the hallway and gives him a devilish grin before walking off in the direction of the dean’s office.

“Troy?” Jeff calls from within the office. He doesn’t  _ sound _ angry...

Troy walks into the office. There’s a nice desk, some plants in the corner. A window. And Jeff Winger, who is in the middle of getting up out of his chair to crush Troy in a hug. Clearly Jeff’s dedication to bicep curls is one thing that hasn’t changed while Troy was gone.

Troy is  _ not _ crying, especially not when Jeff slaps him on the back and his voice goes all choked up as he says his name again.

Jeff finally lets him go, but he leaves a firm hand on Troy’s shoulder. “You’re back,” he says.

“Yeah,” Troy says, nodding his head slightly because he still kind of can’t believe it himself, “I’m back.”

They go to the cafeteria to catch up and drink bad coffee. Troy tells all sorts of stories about pirates and storms, and even that one time he thought he saw a mermaid sitting on a rock. Jeff tells Troy about Frankie, and Elroy, and about Annie’s internship, how she’s staying in DC with the FBI. 

Troy fiddles with a loose screw underneath the table, drinks the last of his coffee. Jeff hasn’t said anything about Abed, and a question lies on the table between them. Troy can only imagine one reason Jeff has yet to answer it. His heart sinks. He is not going to cry.

“And... Abed?” he asks. It comes out strangled. It’s not really worth trying to sound normal; Jeff would see right through it.

“He’s working on this really great TV show.” Jeff sighs. “In California,” he adds.

The thing is, California isn’t even that far. Troy has traveled tens of thousands of miles these past couple years, but California seems somehow out of reach. Not even a different country, a different world. But, he can’t help but think, he isn’t exactly a stranger to following Abed to other worlds.

“I gotta go there,” Troy says, eyes wide, not looking at Jeff, not looking at anything. “Jeff, I have to— I love him.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“No, Jeff.” Troy wills himself to look Jeff in the eye. “I’m  _ in love _ with him.”

Troy expects Jeff to splutter, raise his eyebrows, do something that would indicate extreme shock. But he just smiles and takes another sip of coffee.

“I have to go to California,” Troy says. This is as easy a decision as brushing his teeth in the morning. 

“Look, Troy.” Jeff puts a hand on Troy’s shoulder. “It’s been three years. You can’t just show up at Abed’s house, that would be some serious emotional whiplash.”

Troy hasn’t thought of that. The way it plays out in his head, Abed either slams the door in his face, or initiates their handshake like no time has passed at all. It sucks that it’s more complicated than that. It was never supposed to be this complicated. Not with Abed.

“Annie’s coming up for a visit soon, she’ll know what to do.”

“FBI tactics, good idea.”

Troy’s been waiting three years to see Abed again; what’s another few days? 


	6. Chapter 6

Annie’s email arrives in Troy’s inbox before Annie does the greater Greendale area. He opens the Evite in his bed, where he’s been spending a lot of time lately. Troy’s slept plenty of nights here alone, both pre- and post-Britta, but it’s different somehow without knowing Abed’s in the other room. 

God, even Troy’s tired of hearing himself mope. 

He gets a bowl of Count Chocula to read about the party. It’s entitled  _ Welcome Home Troy!  _ and in the space for  _ organization _ , Annie has entered Save Greendale Committee. That’s good, familiar, but there are a few names on the guest list he doesn’t recognize. It makes sense that they’d fill the table again, but it still kind of stings. Frankie and Elroy sound super lame.

Troy shows up an hour early to the party in jeans and a button-down and a bow tie (LeVar Burton taught him how to tie one at sea—lots of time to practice), ostensibly to help set up, but really to ask for advice. He finds Annie trying to hang a banner above the chalk board.

“Annie,” he says, and doesn’t have time to get out anything else, because she drops her banner and jumps from her stool and crushes him in a hug. 

It’s a good hug, at least thirty seconds, but everything has to come to an end. They break apart, smiling, Annie’s hands still on his shoulders like he’ll blow away in the breeze. 

“I can’t believe you’re back,” she says. All Troy can do is grin and nod and hug her again. It’s awesome seeing Annie excited like this, and weird that it’s still her inside the body of this mature, serious-looking lady.

Apparently, that’s all the time they have for a reunion. Annie has a lot of pre-party tasks.

“I plan much better parties now,” she says, preening. “No skittles, taco shells, or NPR podcasts.”

“Aw, Britta will be so disappointed.”

Troy follows Annie around like a very loyal dog, handing her tape and pins and glitter glue, which is apparently a crucial last-minute party supply. There hasn’t been the right moment to tell her about Abed yet, but he knows it’s coming. Annie is the person he has to talk about this with, no matter how busy she is. Annie and Abed kissed during second paintball, and almost kissed when Abed was that guy from Mad Men, so they clearly have a connection. Troy wonders if he should maybe be jealous about this, but he isn’t.

“Annie,” he finally says, when no more streamers can physically fit on the wall. It comes out strangled enough that Annie puts down her party supplies and looks him in the eye. “Annie, I don’t know what to do, you have to tell me what to do. I love Abed and I’m back in Greendale and he’s not here and that was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to go on a boat with LeVar Burton and never come back and he was never supposed to go to California. And I need. I need you to tell me what to do.” Troy is crying by now, and when Annie opens her arms, he accepts.

“You have to go to him, Troy,” Annie finally says.

“ _ Go to him? _ ” Troy repeats.

“Abed is nothing like Blade,” Annie says, like she can read his thoughts. “And anyway, we have to call him first.”

“Right,” Troy says. This is exactly why he wanted to talk to Annie; she’s rational and businesslike and, of course, right. “We call Abed, and then we go to California.”

Annie picks back up her glitter glue. “But first, we party.”

Ten minutes later, they’re done. Troy and Annie sit down on the couch to appreciate their work, and Annie sighs peacefully. Now Troy feels like a telepath; he can almost hear her think how  _ nothing is more pleasing than planning the perfect party _ , but Annie stays silent for a few minutes. 

Finally, she gets up and wipes her hands on her skirt. “We all got a lot gayer this year,” she says, almost as an afterthought. 

“What?” Troy splutters.

“You’ll see,” Annie says, and, right on cue, the first of the guests begin to arrive. 

Troy’s mouth literally falls open as Annie Kim saunters into Study Room F and kisses his Annie—his Annie—on the cheek. 

“Hey, honey,” she says.

“Annie, you remember Troy,” Annie says. This is clearly the darkest timeline; Abed is in California and Troy is  _ shaking Annie Kim’s hand _ . He holds back a shudder, if only for Annie’s sake. 

Britta arrives a few minutes on the arm of a dark-haired woman Troy recognizes from the Evite as Frankie Dart. He’s kind of glad to have already discovered his feelings for Abed; he would feel pretty out of place at this part pre-gay awakening. Although, Jeff does show up with a girl, and Troy can feel Pierce’s ghost making gross comments at everyone.

There are hugs, and some introductions, and while Troy really did miss Britta and Jeff and Annie, he feels weirdly squirmy through the whole thing. Annie said they could call Abed an hour into the party, and every word he says until then feels like filler.

Troy checks the clock more than he did in high school geometry. Finally, it’s been an hour, and he drags Annie away from her conversation with Britta and Frankie. It sounded like they were talking about Britta’s new cats, anyway, so Troy was really doing her a favor.

“Where are you guys going?” Britta asks. Troy can’t believe he ever dated such a buzzkill.

“We’re going to call Abed!” Annie says, beaming.

Troy’s first instinct is to shush her, to make up some other excuse (“A bed… and breakfast!”), but he can’t think of any reason to hide this. “We’re going to call Abed,” he confirms, grinning like a jack-o-lantern. At long last, they’re going to call Abed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bye liz


End file.
